


where i'm born is where i'll die

by dustywords



Series: tale of vicious circles [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, also you are in for a surprise that will warm your heart, fix-it-fic for the season 3 finale, more ghost puns brought to you by ghost!zelena, time travel rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustywords/pseuds/dustywords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still stuck in the past, Emma and Henry have to figure out (with the friendly support of a ghost and a scheming imp) how to get back to the same Storybrooke they left. But sometimes even time travels have other plans for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where i'm born is where i'll die

**Author's Note:**

> I AM STILL ALIVE. so sorry this took like ages to be finished. never try to write a fic that tries to fix most plot holes of a poorly written show--it will fuck you up. and cause writer's blocks. whatever. HERE IT IS! PART 2! EXCITEMENT!
> 
> title is taken from woodkid's song "where i live".

Regina is still not sure what to feel when she leaves Gold’s shop. Snow is standing next to David, her hand on his back, and she’s explaining to him in a calm tone what they found out from that sneaky imp.

Regina doubts that David will give it much thought, though. The way he stifles a yawn twice and blinks at Snow’s words are a clear evidence of his lack of sleep.

She shakes her head and looks around. Robin is sitting on a bench, only a few feet away from the Charmings, who are now leaving and walking to their truck. Snow nods and smiles at her, before she climbs behind the steering wheel. Well, it’s probably better if she’s driving than the half-asleep prince next to her.

She doesn’t see them drive away; instead she walks over to Robin watching the thoughtful expression on his face. It makes her nervous, and it’s not the good kind of nervous. It’s all tight knots in her stomach, not fluttering butterflies.

His jacket is open despite the cold winter breeze dancing around them and the smell of snow is in the air.

“Hey,” she murmurs, not sure what to make of his behavior.

He looks up and gives her a small smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I gather you did not find a solution to bring them back?” Something in his voice is off, but she can’t put her finger on what.

She sits down next to him, folding her hands in her lap. “I don’t like the fact that he seemed to know about all this and didn’t even consider to share that information with me,” she murmurs and gazes at his profile. “Or anyone. And then he killed Zelena and…” She allows her words to drift off with the white mist into the cold air around them. Her throat closes against her will and it’s so silly to feel sad for losing a person she barely knew and who tried to hurt her and the ones she cares about. But when she talked to her at the station, she thought they could…start anew. Become something close to family. She looks down at her hands.

Robin shrugs, leans back and relaxes a little. “I guess he takes great pride in messing with people’s lives,” he sighs, and finally looks at her.She furrows her brows. “Is something wrong? I know you don’t like him much considering what happened in the past between you two, and don’t misinterpret my trust in his words in this special matter that I don’t question his motives, because I do, it’s just…”

“No, I am not thinking about that,” he interrupts her softly, inching closer and taking her hands in his. “There is just something on my mind that…well, if I am honest, this question has haunted me for some days now.”

She swallows. And gets even more nervous. She feels a little sick, actually. At least he is still sitting and hasn’t dropped on his knee, right? So it’s probably something else and not _that_ kind of question that makes her blood freeze and her heart stop. “What question?” she decides to voice out her confusion and tilts her head.

His hands are warm on hers. “Back in that shop, I had to think about…” he starts and looks down at their joined hands. “Do you remember the day we first met?” He says it with a little, crooked smirk but something holds its brightness back.

She can’t really not smile with him, so she nods and tries not to be confused about what this is and where he is going with it. “I do. But I don’t understand why—”

“When you saved Roland I wanted to get to know you for his sake, because you protected him even though it wasn’t your task to do so, but mine,” he continues, gazing into her eyes.

She simply waits for him to get to his point.

“But then I wanted to get to know you, because you seemed so sad and it took me some time to understand that you indeed lost someone—your own son. And when we went to the castle where your sister waited to meet you,”—she is grateful he hasn’t said ‘Wicked Witch’ because she isn’t sure if she could deal with this, not now with her being dead and wandering as a ghost together with the savior and her son (their son) through time and space—“you seemed so lost that I wondered if there was more than just your son you missed dearly.”

Oh. She turns her head to the side to watch the light streaming down from the street lamp nearby.

“I knew that Snow and David had to deal with their own loss, but I wondered if you might have partly suffered from their loss as well. If Emma Swan was more than just the woman you gave your son and your memories to.” His voice is a soft murmur and with the way he talks about her sacrifice she knows that this whole set up is not to comfort her, but to prepare her for his question.

The worst part is, though, that she already knows where this is heading, and yet she holds his hand like an anchor, because this can’t be it. She just found him, right? How silly of her to truly think about him wanting to propose to her. She winces.

Robin doesn’t notice, not really. “We didn’t get along in the Enchanted Forest. At all,” he says and when she lifts her gaze she cannot only hear his smile in his voice but witness it. “And when we got here with the curse and we didn’t remember what happened in the past year, I still felt drawn to you and after a certain point you did too.” His smile falters. “It took me some time to figure it out, but you told me about your past and now I am…” He stops, seemingly unsure how to finish this sentence.

“You are…?” she pushes, because why is he pausing right now?

He takes a deep breath and starts anew. “If you hadn’t seen my tattoo, if this whole pixie dust affair had never taken place, Regina—would we be sitting here on this bench, holding hands? Or would we still be strangers to each other, like we were in the Enchanted Forest?”

There is this dull ache in her chest. She wants to scatter his worries away, she wants to tell him that he got it all wrong, but instead his words ignite her own doubts that she had tried to push out of her stream of thoughts for the past few days. Ever since Tink had told her to take a leap of faith. To trust a choice some dust made for her all those decades ago.

Robin nods slowly, as if her silence is answer enough. Maybe it is. But she still can’t get a word out, she just opens and closes her mouth again, gazing at him.

He gets to his feet by the time she gives up saying something to make him stop, to stop all of this. “You know,” he says with a pondering tone, “maybe I was the wrong person to ask to take care of your heart, after all. Seems like someone else already has it in her hold without knowing it.” The smile is sad and there are no wrinkles around his eyes and she still can’t say a damn word.

“I’ll better be going,” he says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his vest.

“Robin…”

“I’ll see you around. I am sure you need some time for yourself, after your sister’s death and the whole chaos that the time travel caused…” He offers her a gentle smile and slowly backs away, then turns around and walks in the direction where the forest of Storybrooke lies.

She is paralyzed. And confused. He’s right. So many emotions swirl around her body that she can’t decide with what to deal first; Henry’s (and Emma’s) absence, Zelena’s death or the realization that pixie dust is in fact just green dust that tells you only what you want to hear.

It’s time to have a conversation with a certain former fairy.

*

Emma tries to catch her breath and not look like a fish out of the water. (There are already too many comparisons to animals for one night, she thinks briefly, still staring at the past version of Regina.) “Why is she here?”

“She is the queen and I guess they really feared what she’d do if they ignored her,” Henry tells her in that explaining voice of his. “She has a strong cavalry and that’s why the other royals and the kings of neighboring lands respect her so much.”

“Slaying patriarchy in heels and red lipstick,” Emma murmurs and she can’t keep the awe out of her voice. Awe that is closely followed by the realization what a disturbing sight Regina is. It’s the same woman she’s known for some years now and yet she looks completely different. It’s not the heavy make-up or even the clothes, it’s that look in her dark eyes, cold and unforgiving, highlighted by her dark mask. Her mouth is twisted into something that passes more for a sneer than a smile and she looks down at all the other royals who quickly step aside.

Emma grabs Henry’s arm and they move closer to the dance floor, closer to Regina. The couples there are still swirling around, but they gaze at Regina and their masks can’t hide how uncomfortable the atmosphere seems to become. There is a heaviness to it that Emma can’t quite explain.

King Midas gets to his feet and walks down the few steps of the pedestal to greet her, adjusting his golden mask and crown while doing so. “Queen Regina, we are honored that you followed our invitation,” the man says with a smile, bowing his head and kisses her hand.

Regina smiles back and it looks close to her politician grin. Well, at least something is still familiar about this woman. “I am glad you finally took matters into your hand, my dear friend,” she purrs with her velvet voice that makes Midas shift slightly. “King George made a rather impatient impression on me, last time I saw him.”

“This alliance serves to strengthen the peace between our lands, Regina. It is not meant as a threat to other kingdoms,” he replies, and Emma is now close enough to see how his jaw is working and how he is trying to look confident in his own hall.

But the truth is that Regina is still holding the hand he used to bring her knuckles to his lips and judging by his pained expression her hold is firm and too forceful to be interpreted as something other than a threat.

“King George will ravage your coffers once his son is part of your family. Don’t delude yourself into thinking this is about _peace_. You have been king long enough to understand the game, isn’t that right, dear?” Her smirk grows.

“Perhaps,” the king musters with a cough, “we should talk about this in my private chambers and not on the engagement ball of my only child. I’d rather enjoy this night.”

“Oh, but dear Midas,” Regina laughs and it is a rich, condescending sound, “there is nothing more to add. You invited the enemy to your house. You made your bed, now sleep in it.” She lets go of his hand, casts one last look at him and glides through the crowd, taking a glass of wine from a tablet a servant offers her.

“She’s terrifying,” Emma notes with a perplexed voice.

“And powerful,” Henry adds, somewhat impressed and at the same time repelled by what he has just overheard. “I did not know that there was political turmoil in the Enchanted Forest. The book doesn’t say anything about that.”

“Comes with power and wealth,” Emma sighs and empties her glass of wine. “I wonder why David and Snow never talk about this, though,” she adds and lowers her voice at the use of their names. “They had to know about this, right?”

“Once they took over King George’s kingdom they were busy chasing after my mom,” Henry sighs back and somehow this ball turns into one of those parties you enter with the plan to truly enjoy, but in the end you are walking aimlessly around, avoiding too much eye contact and drinking too much wine. “I think they kind of isolated themselves. Only Princess Abigail supported them, as far as I know. It’s because Prince Charming saved her True Love.”

Emma reaches for the second glass while they walk back to the side of the hall. “Wait. They’ll take his kingdom?”

“Princess Abigail helped them to do it. I don’t know any specifics. I just know that there was a battle or something,” Henry shrugs and keeps his eyes trained on the Evil Queen, who seems too busy with royal small talk judging by the bored look in her dark eyes.

They keep in motion. People still smile politely at them, but the fact that she engages Henry into a talk about his favorite Marvel and DC comics is enough to look busy and prevent others from walking over to them to ask questions or worse, start a real conversation about things she most likely won’t know anything about. Like the economy of Kindom what-is-the-name-again.

She’s the fake princess with a _Star Wars_ reference as a name.

She knows jackass about this world.

“I have to pee,” Henry says after a while and yes, now that she thinks about it, her bladder is rather full.

Still, this is a castle filled with aristocratic snobs that will notice any shortcomings on their part. “Be careful,” she tells him and lets him go. What choice does she have? They had lived in New York for one whole year and even if their memories were fake, him going to the comic shop two blocks from their apartment was real and he’d made it just fine.

“I imagine your little brother must be incredibly bored on a gathering like this,” a well-known voice comes from her left and dammit, why did he have to pee right now?

Regina is watching her from behind her mask with curious, yet careful looking eyes.

“He’s my cousin,” Emma says and in her panic she somehow manages a pathetic little bow. Where the fuck is Zelena when you need her? She’d surely know how to deal with her half-sister in this realm, right? It’s in her now ghostly genes. One would figure she’d be eager to meet her sister but the dead woman is nowhere to be seen.

“Cousin? And yet you two look so much alike, dear,” she says in a low tone a inching closer. “I don’t remember ever being introduced to you, Princess…?”

“Princess Leia,” she says and oh dear god, somebody stop that woman. She has a hard time to keep her breathing even. At least she didn’t pass out. Ugh. Now she’s really glad that Zelena isn’t around. She’d be mocking her about this with no intention to ever stop.

And _ugh_ , why is she blushing now? At least the mask hides it, but she still can feel it.

“Princess Le-ia,” she repeats with a smirk on her lips. She looks ahead, watches how David lifts Abigail and swirls around with her, before he lowers her to the floor again and continues their dance. “They make a lovely couple, wouldn’t you agree, Princess?”

 There is a mocking hue to the word “princess” and she’s almost sure that the Evil Queen sees right through her costume and the lie to be a part of royalty. But that can’t be, right? “They do know how to dance, that’s for sure,” she says and takes another sip of her wine. Something stronger would be fine with her.

“Prince James isn’t exactly known for his dancing skills,” Regina laughs quietly and drinks from her own wine. The sly little smirk is really not necessary to make her point clear.

Nothing she wanted to know about the long dead stranger that is supposed to be her uncle, but here she is. Listening to some juicy gossip about that guy that is the complete opposite of David.

Emma shivers slightly. She wants to leave, but then again she doesn’t, because this is still Regina, even if she’s somewhere buried deep down underneath all the layers of bitterness, anger and indifference. She seems to be someone who cares only about herself and her goals. She’s the Evil Queen Henry’s book painted her to be, and yet she can’t stop seeing Regina in that woman, either. Which is strange and probably stupid. But she can’t help it.

What now? She thinks about a safe topic to talk about. “King George doesn’t seem be here,” she tries, not sure if that is right or not. If she’s wrong, though, she can still claim that she simply didn’t see him. The ball room is crowded enough to make that lie plausible.

But she seems to be right, for a change. Regina nods and even though the suspicion doesn’t leave her eyes, she looks at Emma with something like amusement. “He is a coward, after all. It is incredibly rude and yet King Midas tolerates that imbecile’s insulting manners towards him, his family and his crown. Wars have been started for less.”

Seems like she tripped right into a powder barrel of royal gossip. “Makes one wonder what he is hiding,” she offers with a tilted head and a crooked smile. That move always worked in her days as a bail bondsperson. Maybe it will do the trick again, even if she hadn’t need to use it for some time.

Regina leans even closer and she is pretty sure that they are violating the social graces of all known realms right now. “His deals with the Dark One, of course,” the queen whispers and draws back. Which is for the best.

She almost felt the queen’s lips on her ear.

And her breath that lingered too close to her neck.

Emma is sure to be on the brink of a heart attack.

Also, this much cleavage should be illegal.

“The Dark One, huh?” Jesus Christ, Rumple truly had his fingers everywhere, didn’t he? Then again, she doesn’t even want to know what that might mean. She is really not interested in getting a detailed _The Tudors_ sized report of the latest gossip in the Enchanted Forest—even if a part of her believes that the woman next to her knows damn well what is going on everywhere.

Regina says nothing, simply smiles. And then walks off, as if someone called her name. She minces through the room, towards one of her guards she brought with her and Emma wonders why this woman with magic and that kind of demeanor needs guards around her.

The queen seems to give orders, from time to time glancing at her and Emma isn’t sure what to make of it. It’s weird enough that the queen came to her, talked to her and seemed pretty harmless for a supposedly evil woman.

But that’s the problem with fairytales. They use terms and stretch them to a point where the “villains” of the story don’t seem human anymore—which only in Rumple’s case truly applies. His skin doesn’t look human, let alone his behavior.

Henry comes back a few minutes later, scowling. “Toilets are weird in this realm. I don’t think I could live here forever.”

“But you wanted to get here so bad,” she teases him.

“I didn’t know that the world would look like this. And the servants are all gossiping about the people here,” he continues his little tale. “Obviously someone is missing. King George didn’t come.”

“Yes, it’s an outrage,” she says with a high-pitched voice, only loud enough for him to hear.

He throws his head back and laughs full-heartedly. “That was horrible!”

“What are you two doing?” a deeply irritated whisper of a certain ghost reaches them. Zelena walks over to them, scolding them with her look. “Be ashamed of yourself. This is a castle, not the Jolly Roger!”

“Geez, almost mixed both up,” Emma breathes to Henry and tries not to stare too much into Zelena’s direction, because to the people around them she’s invisible. It would be odd to stare into the air as if someone was standing there—even if it’s technically the case.

“You aren’t as cute as you think you are, Emma Swan. Now tug along, my dear friends. We have to stop my past self from killing my half-sister.”

*

It’s around ten when Regina looks at her watch around her wrist, before she knocks. The light streaming through the narrow gap under the door tells her that Tink isn’t asleep yet or fears darkness and sleeps with the lights on. Either way, this talk can’t wait.

It takes the fairy just a few seconds to open the door and give her a half-confused, half-worried look. “Regina? What are you doing here?” She steps aside. “Are you okay?”

“We need to talk.” She brushes her question off with a swift motion of her hand. Always the queen. Sometimes she doesn’t really think about these movements, they simply happen. She was a queen for too long to leave certain parts behind.

“That’s how the best talks start,” Tink sighs and closes the door behind her. “Is this about…Zelena’s death?”

“How do you…?”

“Ruby told me. She overheard your conversation with Rumple, earlier at the diner.” She shrugs.

Regina flexes her fingers, sighs and closes her eyes, before sitting down in the old armchair with a flower pattern on mint green background. Roses, out of all flowers. “That’s not why I am here,” she finally clarifies and watches how Tink slowly sits down on the edge of her bed.

“Alright.” The fairy gives her a strange look.

She should stop squirming around like Emma does when she’s nervous. “I am actually just here to ask you a question.”

“That sounds simple but something tells me that it’s not, judging by your grimace.” Tink tilts her head and makes a humming noise. “Did something happen? Aside from Emma and Henry disappearing in a time portal, I mean.”

“You could say that,” she mumbles, not sure how to break the news about her and Robin’s talk on the bench the best way. She rubs her hands together and crosses her legs, not caring that she is still wearing her black coat or shawl. It’s warm in that cozy little room that Tink calls her home since they returned from Neverland and that second curse.

“Why don’t you just tell me what this is about?”

Regina nods and takes a deep breath. Her fingers tremble a little and she isn’t sure why. Is she scared to hear the answer? That pixie dust tells the truth and her heart is just…mistaken and confused? That she just gambled with her chance at happiness, involuntarily so? “Are you sure that pixie dust never lies?” she asks with a soft voice and doesn’t dare to look up for some more seconds.

She can hear Tink’s heavy sigh anyway. “Is this about that again? Why do you suddenly have doubts? I thought things were going well with Robin.”

“They were. And now they are not,” she replies tersely, lifting her gaze and fixing Tink with it. “It’s no one’s fault, I guess. Or maybe it’s mine. Maybe it was too late,” she muses and only looks at Tink to not appear impolite. “We’re different people now, different than we were back then, when the pixie dust…” She just shakes her head instead of finishing her sentence properly.

Tink purses her lips. “There is no set date for finding your soulmate, Regina. These things happen, there is no way to fight this.” She even smiles when she says this. Like this is truly the only recipe for happiness, and it shouldn’t be like that.

It should be more like—and she really loathes admitting that, but here she is, facing facts she can’t ignore—the way Snow and her Prince Charming found each other. Out of the blue in the woods and yet they are right for each other. It simply happened, they didn’t need the help of pixie dust.

Maybe using this dust is actually cheating. It shouldn’t be that easy to track your soulmate down. And to be honest, this in itself is an odd way to find your other half.

Tink sighs when she notices her dark expression. “Pixie dust always tells the truth. It’s the first thing a fairy learns. And I used the dust that the blue fairy used herself.”

Regina huffs. “Then why didn’t it work?”

“Maybe you are just too afraid to trust him that he wants to give you the best and that he cares about _you_ and not the titles you had or the things you’ve done.”

“Stop explaining to me how relationships work,” she hisses, getting to her feet. She paces around, not really knowing what to do with her hands. She pushes them into her coat pockets, to hide the trembling. “It’s just…Robin asked me tonight if I had been interested in him without that lion tattoo on his wrist, or without the pixie dust leading me to him.”

Tink’s mouth twists downwards. “Oh no,” she whispers to herself.

Regina barely hears it. “And I couldn’t answer him! I should’ve said that I don’t care about this, but that’s the point, I do care about what the pixie dust said, I cared about it more than anything! We didn’t get along in the Enchanted Forest during that lost year and once I had the memories of our…behavior recovered, I just explained it to myself that it was because Henry was not there with me.”

“That is only natural, Regina,” Tink tries to calm her down, lifting both hands. “You are a mother and you thought you would never see him again. It’s okay not to be interested in a man that tried to get to know you.” She gets to her feet as well. “No one is expecting you to marry him next week. Just…why don’t you take it slow?”

“But it wasn’t just about Henry,” she whispers, dismissing everything else Tink has said and now she’s getting closer to the core of the real problem that is drumming in her chest. Since god knows how long. “I wish it was, but then I wouldn’t be here,” she smiles through the burning unshed tears and watches how Tink’s eyes go wide.

“What do you mean?” Now she’s getting to her feet, too. “Regina?”

She hesitates and turns around to look out of the window. It had started to snow again and the snowflakes are dancing, almost mockingly so. “I am in love with Emma Swan,” she whispers, forcing every word out before she chokes on them.  “And no matter how much I wanted to believe in your pixie dust and the lion tattoo and that he’s my soulmate? It’s not working!” She sniffs. “It’s not working.”

“What the…” Tink is shaking with her head. “By my fairy wand, what are you saying?”

“I have no idea,” she laughs and it’s the laugh of a lost soul. “Whatever the pixie dust told me that night, all these years ago—cannot apply any longer, am I correct? If it ever has, that is.”

“I…honestly don’t know what you want me to tell you. And I don’t know why you are here. You seem to have made a choice already.” She arches both brows and tilts her head.

“If only I were given one,” Regina says and it’s this kind of thinking that got her into that mess in the first place. Then she blinks.

Tink is right. She did make a choice. She chose to drop her chance with Robin, and decided to be stuck with that awkward undefined something between her and Emma. No one gave her that choice, she made it all on her own.

She smiles like a lovesick teenager. Or how she pictures Snow White to wake up every morning.

She shakes her head and stops pacing. “You are not going to stop me and tell me how I am destroying my happiness?” she asks quietly, not sure why she wants— _needs_ —Tink’s approval. The fairy had kind of started this mess in the first place.

Tink takes a long, deep breath, before she inspects her fingernails. She’s buying herself time and that’s okay. She looks up and the faintest of smiles is on her lips. “Depends,” she shrugs. “Does it feel like it’s destroying your happiness?”

“It feels…” She honestly doesn’t know what she feels right now. But that’s understandable, isn’t it? “It feels like everything and nothing at all. I am not sure,” she admits, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. She feels like she’s losing it.

“That isn’t really an answer to my question.”

“You are supposed to help me here and not ask me nitpicking questions I don’t know the answers for. That’s why I am here! You were the one who insisted pixie dust would give me a second chance. But now it’s no longer true. And I need to know…I mean, I—”

“It’s not my fault that—” She swallows the rest of sentence down when she meets Regina’s glare. “Fine. Calm down. If you remember I was a quite young fairy when I decided to help you, if you recall? So I really don’t know what consequences await you if you decide to ignore the truth the pixie dust pointed out that night.”

“That’s truly something I wanted to hear right now,” she grumbles and stares out of the small dusty window of the B&B room. “Not that I care.”

“You are here, so a part of you does care. And if it is of any help, I am happy you came to me. Even if I won’t finish the third chapter of _Wuthering Heights_.”

Regina isn’t sure what she expected from this talk. More yelling, maybe. “I just wanted to know what to do,” she mumbles, tired of this game of chasing and losing. She lost her half-sister she’d just started to approach with peaceful words and curiosity. Her son is stuck with the savior in the past. The imp is keeping something from them.

Tink laughs quietly. “Regina, if you are here to get my blessing to…chase after your own idea of happiness, then you are wasting your time,” she says and it’s soft and understanding and all the things she didn’t expect to hear right now. “You don’t need anyone to allow you anything. Maybe you are right. Maybe you are wrong. You’ll never know if you don’t jump into the cold water, right?”

“You really know how to cheer somebody up.”

“Well, excuse me but I was secretly rooting for you and Robin. It makes me kind of sad that it seems not to be working.”

She turns to face Tink. “Secretly?”

“ _Rooting for you two_ ,” she underlines with a lifted finger.

Regina comes closer to her. “I expected you to be mad at me. To tell me that I am foolish to…well, I actually don’t know what I am doing, so there is that.” She wants to laugh at herself and her latest choices.

Tink touches her arm. “You are my friend, Regina. I failed to do it once the right way, so…”

“This has to stay between us,” she reminds her sharply, putting her hand over Tink’s. “Please. Just don’t tell it to anyone. Especially not Snow.” She sighs deeply. “Never again Snow.”

“You have my word,” Tink vows with that little smirk of hers and suddenly not everything seems to disappear in quicksand.

“Thank you.”

*

“Tell me that plan again,” Emma whispers impatiently, eyeing the other royals that are passing them by. There is curiosity in their eyes, but the perks of being surrounded by wealthy and mostly superficial people is that their interest rarely collides with the personal comfort zone of the present guests.

She still can’t believe that this dumb ghost kept this detail about her past self turning up at this party to kill her half-sister.

“I’ll go and grab us some fancy food from the buffet over there,” Henry says to make it look like they are having a conversation, while Emma is in reality talking to an invisible ghost.

Zelena sighs deeply, annoyed by more than just Emma’s insistence to listen to that dumb-as-fuck-plan. “It’s simple. I’ll go and try to find Glinda—Henry comes with me, since I am invisible. He’s going to tell her about what I am about to do and then she’ll handle it.”

“But won’t this change things?”

“His face is covered by a mask and he only has to say my name and she won’t be paying much attention to him, but to his following words. Also, this already happened,” Zelena points out with a lifted finger.

“What?”

“She stopped me,” Zelena whispers darkly, and Emma isn’t sure if she’s just hearing things or if there was something like admiration hidden under the bitterness. “I remember it very vividly. I saw a glimpse of her face before guards arrested her.”

“Alright. And then what? You find her, tell her everything and then? What’s my job? You told me I have to distract past-you. How do you think this is going to work out?”

Zelena chuckles humorlessly. “You have to find Snow White. That’s the disguise I used.”

“Jesus Christ,” Emma mutters, adjusting her mask anew. Her ears hurt a little from the strap of her mask. “And if I find… Snow White?”

“Hopefully we’ll be back with Glinda by then. I remember that I waited until the fireworks went off before I invaded this place. And the host is just about to announce it.”

She’s right. The music stopped playing a few moments ago and now the King, dressed in his golden suit, invites his guests to watch the firework that is about to start shortly. Most guests are already pushing towards the exit that’ll lead them to a garden or some fancy forest.

“What was your plan?”

“Are you really this dimwitted, you—”

“No,” she interrupts her before some nasty insult can leave her mouth. Henry looks a little disappointed. And it’s not for the show to keep up the pretense that they are talking. “What did past-you plan to do before Glinda stopped it?”

“Oh,” Zelena breathes.

“I wanted to steal another cup of wine,” chimes Henry in, nodding to a couple that greet them with a polite nod. They are walking towards the open exit guiding them outside, just like the others.

“I wanted to pretend to be Snow White, get the Evil Queen’s attention, reveal myself and then kill her in the moment of surprise,” Zelena answers shortly after Henry’s cover.

Emma shakes her head. “You Mills women never think things through.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s like Regina handing her heart to a guy she just met and he hides it under some _dirt_.”

“We will talk about this ball for a while now, I am sure of it,” Henry throws his meaningless sentence in, just to keep the pretense up, looking between Emma and Zelena. His look is alarmed and he has a hard time pretending that he is not trapped in an awkward quarrel between his mother and a ghost.

“Well, a black sheep with horrible taste in men exists in every family,” Zelena brushes off, and then flinches. Her eyes cloud over with a memory, just for a second, but it’s there.

Emma musters her. “Gold?”

“Gold,” she sighs with remorse.

Henry scrunches his face together, pressing his palms on his ears. “Ew!” he protests and shudders. “I didn’t want to know that! Oh my god, _Emma_.” He is so scandalized, he even forgets to pretend that they are Princess Leia and Prince Charles.

Emma gives him a rueful smile. “Sorry, kid.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he huffs back, shaking his head. He walks a few steps away and observes the Evil Queen. She is talking with the young couple, giving what she assumes to be Prince James cold looks. They are all forced to wait for the flock of people to get through the exit to the gardens.

“Let’s go, Henry,” Zelena says, clears her throat and walks off in that swift way of hers.

Henry follows her, saying something to Zelena, but Emma can’t hear his words. She sighs, lifts her robe a little and starts to walk off in the opposite direction, towards the entrance of the room. She smiles a little at the guards she passes by and hopes that no one is going to ask her where she’s off to.

At least she kind of figured out how to walk in these heels together with that ridiculous red ball gown. It’s nothing like the robes she wore in her days as a successful bail bondsperson, but it’s not the worst either. Different, that’s for sure. She looks around and tries to spot anything suspicious. The hallway with its lit torches attached to their holders stretches the shadows and for a second or two she allows herself to feel like she’s at Hogwarts. The flagstones and her steps echoing through sells that illusion pretty well. Only the moving staircases and the living paintings on the walls are missing.

The firework show is starting. She can hear the muffled detonations outside and a little of the cheerful applause. People without TV are so easy to impress, she thinks, and keeps walking, not sure if she even picked the right direction. She doesn’t know exactly what she’s looking for. Zelena disguised as Snow White could be _everywhere_.

She stops at the corner. Her ears picked up on something, she could swear—

There. The sound of breaking glass and a soft _whush!_ followed by a hissed curse. It’s right around the corner. Emma risks a glance and sees—

Snow White. Or actually Zelena. What a sneaky little trick, Emma thinks. She watches how Zelena puts her broom against the wall and looks around. It’s really weird that she looks like her mom while doing so. Only the pendant around Snow White’s neck is proof enough that this is indeed Zelena. But the dark hood, the riding pants, boots—everything looks one to one like the Snow White that rode off on a horse with Prince Charming’s stolen jewels.

Shit. She is at the far end of the hallway, no one is here which, who would’ve guessed, was bound to happen. Of course they didn’t find Glinda in time. She tries to keep her anger at that ghost at bay. That was a stupid ass plan and she can’t believe she agreed to do that. But that’s what she’s doing lately: she agrees to stupid plans. That’s why her brother got kidnapped, that’s why she allowed Hook to follow her (and then he almost drowned) and now she’s stuck in this time travel, because Gold had to be a dick.

“You look a little…cornered,” a dark voice whispers into her ear and fuck, she almost screams. But there is a green-golden hand that clasps over her lips and stops her. “Shh, it’s just me,” Rumpelstiltskin giggles and she can feel his breath on her neck.

 _Ew_.

She pushes his hand away. “Let me go, creep!” she hisses, turning her head to glare at him.

“Hey, you! Stop!” a man suddenly shouts, coming from the other side of the hallway. “It’s Snow White! Stop her!” shouts another one.

Shit’s about to hit the fan.

“I’d say you should do something. Poor Snow White is going to be arrested and will die by the Evil Queen’s hand. Or is the queen going to die?” Rumpelstiltskin says it with a hint of a smile in his whisper. “Shall I help you, once again, dearie?” He points at her red dress that hides the uncomfortable shoes.

The guards run past her.

“I can’t run after them in these clothes!” she curses and then her vision is clouded by Rumple’s dark red magic smoke and she is no longer wearing her red ball gown, but a pair of leather boots, dark pants, a simple shirt covered by a black leather vest and a dark cloak with a hood. Only her red mask is still in place.

Nice.

She runs off without uttering another word, only now getting what ghost Zelena meant when she said that her past self had tried to get the Evil Queen’s attention: she _wanted_ to get arrested and then kill the Evil Queen. This was that kind of dumb plan that could work if you let it unfold.

Emma is fast enough to catch up with the two guards and their drawn swords and tackle them from behind, right in front of fake Snow White. She hears a gasp that is not her own before her jaw collides with the cold hard ground and, ugh, why is Taylor Swift now singing this damn song in her head?

She has no time to process the worrisome train of thought in her head when an elbow hits her stomach. She groans and tries to disentangle herself from the mess of limbs. Fucking hell. She gasps for air. “Asshole,” she curses and pushes one of the guards off of her, using her flat palm. She feels like the hood slides off her head and this is not good, but—

Uff. A knee hit her in the stomach.

Fake Snow White is obviously at a loss of words. She grabs her broom and stares at Emma with wide eyes.

Emma freezes in her movements.

Her mask. Her goddamn mask is no longer covering the upper half of her face. Superhero rule number one is now broken: never give your true identity away. Shit.

Fake Snow White stares at her with wide eyes and her lower lip trembles. She shakes her head and presses her back against the wall where the broom leaned against just a few seconds ago. “Glinda,” she whispers disbelievingly, not stopping the movement of her head.

One of the guards gets to his knees, breathes hard and reaches for his sword.

“No!” she shouts, kicking the other guard to free her legs and gets to her feet to either stop the dumbass that is struggling to stand up or to find her mask again.

It’s too late anyway.

The guard wearing the King Midas crest on his armor grins at her, spits on the floor and presses the tip of his sword lightly against Emma’s stomach. “No sudden movements, peasant.”

More boots that run over the flagstones, more voices that yell Snow White’s name. This is not going the way she thought it would go and Emma briefly considers to yell for Rumple again. But what about Henry? She turns around to face the music and almost laughs.

She spots the Evil Queen right away, grinning victoriously at Snow White while she comes closer to the scene.

Oh no.

She’s going to see Emma, unmasked and trapped.

Then two things happen at once: Fake Snow White curses, grabs her groom and jumps with it out of the window, while one of the queen’s guards grabs both of her hands and ties them quickly together.

She can’t see his face through his black fabric mask.

But he can see her.

Even though she quickly looks down.

It’s too late and the future just got altered. Fuckfuckfuck.

Emma closes her eyes.

“Arrest that street rat and find Snow White! Now!” the Evil Queen orders. She fights against the strong hands that keep her in place, before another guard with a black mask joins them and she is hauled across the hallway, the tips of her boots scratching over the surface of the floor.

No one cares.

Fuck, she is in some deep trouble.

*

She is kneeling on the cold floor when a hand rips the burlap bag or whatever the fuck they put over her head away. She has no idea why they put it on in the first place, but that’s what they did to her and Henry, before they got shoved into the carriage. Not the Evil Queen’s carriage, of course. Still, the whole “cover their eyes” thing seemed pointless, since the Evil Queen is as famous in this land as Beyoncé. It was no secret where she lived, right?

Then again, maybe hiding her address wasn’t the main concern here. Looking now at the Evil Queen’s hard expression in her eyes, Emma thinks that this whole show might’ve been more for psychological reasons above anything else. Emma has absolutely no idea how much time passed. Days could’ve passed and she wouldn’t even know.

That’s some pretty good interrogation tactics right there. She is impressed.  

Also, Henry is not here.

Or Zelena.

It’s only her, the Evil Queen in her black dress (a different one than she was wearing at the ball, Emma notes) and the two guards that brought her here, her hands still tied behind her back.

“Leave us, but remain close to the doors. I won’t have…any more surprises tonight, understood?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” The guards leave with heavy steps.

That goddamn woman takes her time. She is sitting on an armchair that is decorated with some fur and stirs her tea with a spoon while watching her. Good god. This shouldn’t be so hot, but it kinda is.

Emma grits her teeth.

“Tell me, ‘Leia’—what is your real name?” the Queen asks, licks the spoon and places it on the saucer. She laughs, waves with her now free hand and adds, “Let’s skip that, I don’t care about your name, which village you are from or how sick any of your relatives might be, as this is usually the reason for treason. Did Snow White promise you a fortune, street rat? Because in that case, I’d pity you.”

“I am not working with…Snow White,” Emma replies and wonders why it’s so hard to look away when the Evil Queen takes a sip from her tea. It’s unnerving how casual this looks.

The Queen chuckles, but the way she is watching her is more alike to the way a panther focuses on its prey. Emma feels naked in ways no fully clothed person should ever feel. “My dear, it is pointless to lie. You knew where this filthy bandit would be. What was the plan? Use the festivities as a distraction to rob the palace? Or was this just another way to mock me?”

“I feel like it doesn’t matter what I tell you,” Emma sighs and fuck her if this is not partly like all the debates and bickering she had with the mayor back in good ol’ cursed Storybrooke. “You seem to have figured it all out.” She rolls her eyes and yes, even her techniques to rile the mayor up work with this version of Regina as well.

Suddenly the Evil Queen is right in front of, grabbing her jaw and leaning forward. “This is not how you will talk to me, a _queen_ , you peasant!” Her snarl is even more impressive in this realm.

Emma swallows and swallows, because her mouth is very dry.

“The more interesting question, though,” the queen continues, releasing her jaw with a painful flick of her hand, “is the mystery as to why you are reeking with the Dark One’s magic. He gave you the pretty dress and mask, didn’t he? You and your ‘cousin’.” She smiles satisfied with herself for figuring this out.

Emma clears her throat. “See, you already know everything. Why even interrogate me?”

“There is something about you that feels…off.” And suddenly the mask of indifference shows cracks and isn’t perfectly in place anymore. Regina’s dark eyes are full of questions she won’t ask out loud and for a few heartbeats Emma imagines the young, innocent queen, sitting at the long table on a ball that ignores her and her existence. But it’s probably just her brain that knows this Regina better than the Evil Queen, who promptly returns with a hard line around her dark red lips.

“Guards, bring the ‘princess’ into her guest room,” the queen orders with a condescending little smirk that makes Emma’s fist itch to wipe it off with a well-thrown punch. Instead, the two guards return and pull her up to her feet, leading her out of the room.

Emma risks a look back and sees how the queen turns to face her mirror, whispering something to her reflection. Then the gloved hand of one of the masked guards forces her to look ahead again, before the double winged door falls closed.

*

The guest room turns out to be a prison cell. Of course it is. Emma wonders how long the Evil Queen worked on that joke and if she is now sipping her tea, laughing to herself. What a fucking asshole.

But it turns out that she isn’t alone.

For a second she hopes and dreads that fact that it is Henry (or just Zelena), but both remain absent and it worries her. She is trapped in this castle, Regina saw her face and she pretty much fucked up everything she wasn’t supposed to.

“Don’t try anything stupid, peasant,” the guard who throws her into that cell warns her. His voice is deep and his shoulders are broad, that’s all she can tell. The mask and helmet are doing a great job at deconstructing any individuality these men might have.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she spits back, too tired to care. At least she kept her clothes, which are by far the most comfortable since she started changing into the latest fashion trends of the Enchanted Forest.

Her gaze wanders to her right, where the other person sits, covered by a brown blanket or cloak. It’s hard to tell. But it’s definitely not Henry.

She scoots closer to the bars dividing both prison cells and leans her forehead against the cool metal. “Hello?” Emma whispers slowly, not sure if she wants to wake the person or not. What kind of criminal might be entrapped there?

The blanket or cloak moves, until the sleepy looking face of a woman comes to view. She seems to be the same age as Emma. “Oh,” the woman makes, surprised. She blinks and sits up. “Are you scheduled for the execution tomorrow as well?”

Emma gapes at the stranger.

The word ‘execution’ seems to have slipped the queen’s mind.  

Well, fuck her sideways.

*

Regina is there when the doorbell rings. She opens the door and is prepared for the sleepy sight that Snow White is these days; she wasn’t prepared for the stroller, however. “Snow,” she greets her with a sigh and a short look at baby Neal who yawns in that exact moment. “Didn’t you say on the phone that you needed a break from your son and you would leave him with your prince?” Not that she minds. It’s just…the last time Snow had a newborn around her it vanished in a wardrobe and 28 years later it climbed out of a yellow monstrosity to attack her apple tree with a chainsaw and destroy her curse.

What is this one going to do?

“Yes, but—I changed my mind.”

Regina notes how Snow’s eyes flicker down to her son, as if she’s checking that he is still there. Maybe she, too, is worried if bringing him here was a good idea. “Well, come in.” She steps aside, opens the door wider and closes it promptly behind Snow. It is a cold morning, after all.

Snow hands her two paper bags. “I bought croissants and bear claws from the diner.” She grins and starts to disentangle her shawl. She is awfully chirpy for someone who has a newborn that won’t sleep a night through yet.

She rolls her eyes when she walks past Snow, because some habits are just not meant to die. Not in this life, anyway. She takes two plates out and prepares everything to make them coffee. Snow rocks the stroller back and forth and makes cooing noises and that’s when something occurs to Regina.

“You are afraid of leaving him out of sight,” she suddenly says, waiting for Snow White to look up.

And god, that woman takes her time with that. “What?”

“That’s why you took him with you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Snow says with the odd sense of defensiveness that pretty much confirms Regina’s assumption.

She sighs. “Zelena is dead and I have no interest in kidnapping or harming your male heir in any way. You can relax, Snow.”

Snow furrows her brows. “It’s not that. I just…” And then she stares out of the window and Regina realizes that she made a severe mistake by opening that can of worms, because this is about to become a long talk about suppressed feelings and worries—nothing she wants to talk about, especially not with Snow White and especially _not now_. Henry and Emma are god knows where in the past right now, she doesn’t have the patience to deal with Snow’s troubles.

She’s barely gotten any sleep.

“I worry about him. He almost got hurt right after his birth, just like Emma and…it feels _wrong_ to leave him somewhere else and not being there with him.”

“But you surely trust your idiot husband enough to take care of his son?” Dammit, now she just encouraged her former arch-nemesis to spill her heart over coffee and baked goods.

Snow nods slowly. “I do. But the last time he took care of my child he almost got killed.”

Oh.

Regina closes her eyes, pours the freshly brewed coffee into the two prepared mugs next to the machine and turns around to place one mug in front of Snow. “I am sure that this will pass. Start with…short periods of time. Like checking the mailbox.”

“I know,” Snow scowls at her. “I know that this is silly, but I can’t help it. And with David now away to further investigate the time portal with Hook and Rumple—”

“Wait,” Regina interrupts, her hand flying up. “What is the dim-witted pirate doing there?”

“He is worried about Emma,” Snow replies like this is the most obvious answer in the entire world. “He cares about her.”

There are weird little knots in her stomach now and she doesn’t feel that hungry after all. She sips from her coffee. “Oh, so he knows she’s gone?” she mumbles under her breath and takes another sip.

Snow smiles while she puts sugar and milk into her coffee. “He has changed so much and in a way it’s nice to know that love can really bring the best out of people.”

 _Do not strangle Snow White. Do not strangle Snow White._ She grits her teeth and puts the croissants and bear claws on a platter before sitting down next to Snow. “Forgive me that I won’t agree with your opinion, because after being tortured partly by what’s left of his hands I’d rather not think too much about that cockroach.”

Snow winces. “Oh god, I am sorry. I forgot. I mean, with Neverland and what happened afterwards, it…”

“Slipped your mind?” Of course it did. Stupid, oblivious Snow.

She smiles apologetically. “Let’s talk about something else. Do you want come over for dinner tonight? It must be boring to sit here by yourself and watch the _Revenge_ episodes your TiVo recorded.”

“How do you…?”

“Emma mentioned it after one of your magic lessons,” Snow shrugs and chuckles. “Do I need to be worried that you are watching this show?”

“I just finished the first season. No need to worry,” she gives back with an easy smile and that’s new. They got soft, and she isn’t even upset about this. So, she takes a croissant from the platter and says, “when shall I come by for dinner?”

“Would 7 pm be good?”

“Yes. I’ll be there.”

*

“Execution?” she breathes out, gripping the bars with more force. “I…I can’t die!”

The woman gives her a sad look. “You have a family too, then? I very much understand that feeling. My husband and son are out there somewhere, worried sick, I presume.” She sighs and sniffs a little. “The worst thing is not being able to say goodbye.”

Stop. This has to stop. “No, I am not supposed to be here,” she stutters and she is now officially losing it. It took a time portal to finally break Emma Swan. She stumbles backwards until her back hits the cold, hard wall of her cell. It feels more like the wall of a cave, to be honest.

She needs to find a way out of here and get Henry. He has to be somewhere down here, too, right?

“There is no way out, the door is locked and without a key—”

“Stop!” She wants this woman to shut up. She knows this. She does, but her mind rebels at the very idea to rot away in a prison before she’s going to lose her head. She was in prison once and she swore herself never to return to one. And technically, this doesn’t count, because this is the past and the things are…not real, right? She’s just a visitor, someone who does a few things to adjust the past but who doesn’t belong here.

And that’s why she can’t fucking die here. Simple as that. “We are not going to give up …” She waves helplessly with her hand towards the woman that eyes her with a strange look on her face.

She hesitates. “Lady Marian,” she almost whispers. “You might know me better as one of Robin Hood’s archers, though, but I am also his wife.” Her face lights up with a warm, tender smile.

Oh no.

Not another dumb plot twist. _Please_.

“Of course,” she mutters under her breath, bangs her head back against the wall behind her and closes her eyes.

Fuck.

*

Dinner was actually…better than expected. Regina is sitting on the couch, right next to Snow, who is holding a cup of tea and chattering happily away about her son (she has severe problems calling him by his name—is baby idiot an adequate alternative?) while David does the dishes and from time to time joins in with a chuckle.

Regina smiles without even meaning to.

This feels like family, even if Henry isn’t here and that’s why it’s just a tiny smile, no matter how genuine. And Emma is missing, too.

For a second she imagines both of them here. Henry would probably try to find goofy nicknames for his uncle and Emma would have this sad smile on her lips that Snow wouldn’t notice.

She looks down at her own cup of tea.

“I miss them, too,” Snow suddenly says, or maybe not so suddenly, because Regina realizes that she completely missed the rest of the story. Not that there was an important point to that tale, just…she zoned out there for a solid minute or more.

“What?”

“Emma and Henry. But Rumple told David that they should be back tomorrow.”

“He said that Henry is going to be safe and sound,” David adds, placing the last dried dish to its rightful place in the kitchen. “I think he wasn’t trying to mess with me or something, so I trust him.”

Regina has that nagging feeling in the back of her mind, as if she left the stove on and now she tried to remember it. “Hm,” she makes and nods slowly, hoping that they would return soon. David’s words about how he trusts Gold’s judgment does little for her worries, because this fool trusts almost as easily as his wife.

A warm hand covers hers. “I think to occupy ourselves, we should maybe plan a little celebration? I mean, it’s not every day that your children go on a time travel adventure,” Snow suggests and her eyes twinkle in the same way they did all these years ago when they first met—a lifetime ago.

Regina doesn’t understand the blind trust that Snow and David carry around like a shield, but then she remembers their favorite family saying that they will always find each other and it would suit them to extend this and include Emma and Henry into this idiotic line as well.

She sighs. “I see no reason why not,” she agrees with a small smile and squeezes the hand back.

*

Marian looks at her as if she swallowed a whole bird at once. “I don’t understand. Who are you?”

Emma tries to stay calm. It’s…not a big deal, right? Alright, so maybe Regina—who is currently kinda dating that scruffy-face Hood—killed his wife in the past, but that’s nothing, right?

“It’s nothing, I just…” Tough shit. She has to explain her situation, somehow. She can’t just leave this woman hanging—wow, unnecessary, morbid pun—and return to the present, looking at Robin and Regina sitting close to each other at the diner and pretend she didn’t meet his wife. But no matter what she says now, it will alter the past. And if that’s the case she might fuck up big time. On the other hand, how is she supposed to get out of here now? She can’t just…leave this woman behind. There is not only Hood to consider, but also little _Roland_. Oh god.

Why does she have to make the call?

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Emma blinks and makes a decision. “I am from the future,” the words stumble out of her mouth with little breath. “My name is Emma and I can’t die, because this is not my time line. I am not supposed to be here…or, actually I kind of am. It’s complicated.” She sighs. And sighs. And shrugs.

Maria just stares at her. “What?”

“I know! This must sound so crazy to you. But I swear to you, I am telling the truth. And I will prove it to you—right after I find my own son, Henry.”

“She captured your son as well?” Now she looks really worried. “Why isn’t he here? All prisoners are brought down here.”

“I have no idea, but I will get behind this.” She marches forward, crouches down and fishes a hair pin out of her hair. At least she got rid of that dress before they arrested them, she thinks, while she tries to open the door. But her hair remained the way Rumple’s magic willed it to be—with useful hairpins. He...didn’t know about this, did he? “It’s all about the tumblers,” she mumbles, remembering Neal’s words from years ago. She huffs, grits her teeth and then _click!_ —the door opens.

“You did it!” Marian smiles. It’s a careful smile, and Emma knows exactly what it means.

“I’ll come back and—” she starts, but Marian shakes her head, coming closer until she can grip the bars of her prison door. She seems a little weak on her legs and Emma wonders not for the first time, how long this woman has been trapped in here.

“You shouldn’t waste your time on a stranger, Emma. It gets you into unnecessary trouble,” Marian tells her with a pointed look and a voice that is laced with more than just worry.

Emma tilts her head and blinks. “Why did they capture you, anyway?” She keeps her voice low, because she isn’t sure if at the end of the long hallway a guard isn’t waiting. She risks a glance over her shoulder, but they are alone.

Someone whistles a sad tune, somewhere.

The other woman bites her lower lip. “I helped a bandit. A woman, actually. Maybe you know her? Her name is Snow White and she is on the run from the Evil Queen.”

Emma’s heart stops and her eyes widen.

Marian nods with a knowing look. “So you do know her. Are you related? You look very much like her.”

Emma feels a lump forming in her throat and she has to look away, because suddenly she sees the faces of her parents and the homesickness is rushing through her body like some sort of poison. She clears her throat. “You could say that,” she mutters, not willing to give her entire identity away. She has no idea how far things are at this point in history. Is the curse in the making by now? Do people know about some sort of savior that is about to be born? She’d rather simply be Emma.

Marian doesn’t pry and just accepts that answer. “See, I don’t regret saving her life, but nothing good came out of it. And I very much regret not being able to see my family again, so please, I beg you: don’t make the same mistake.”

“I am coming back,” Emma tells her, as if Marian didn’t just warn her against it. “You have my word.”

“Emma—”

“I am from the future,” she reminds her with a warm smile. “I am not going to die now, here in the past.” She gains more confidence while she says this, because it’s true; she is here because of a purpose and her job is not done yet. Logically speaking, the time travel already happened, because the curse happened and everything that followed. Her smile widens. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here.”

She sprints around the corner, before Marian can tell her otherwise. It’s too late anyway. She told Marian that she’s from the future, meaning that she has changed things. But if she takes her with her—no one will know. If they all go together through time, it’ll be as if she simply vanished, but at least she’s going to be alive.

She chooses to ignore the voice in her head that wonders what will happen if she brings Marian back to present time Storybrooke, where Marian’s husband is currently dating the very woman that promised her an execution.

Better not think about this too much.

*

She finds them in the queen’s library. Henry is talking with the Evil Queen as if he was facing his mom and not a terrifying monarch wearing a probably plain black robe and too much red lipstick for her standards. Her long hair is put up in a simple pony tail and falling down over her shoulder.

Maybe it’s her outfit, or maybe the fact that Henry is completely at ease with her, talking quietly about the book he is holding that makes Emma take a deep breath and she realizes that this woman is a human after all.

Emma slips into the library without making any noise and hides behind a bookshelf in the next row, sneaking closer to listen to what they are talking about.

“… you are well educated for a thief’s son,” the queen remarks and her voice does sound different from Regina’s soft mom-voice, but damn if this isn’t close.

Emma doesn’t know what is happening or why she is so eager to let the scene play out in front of her. She has a pretty good view at them from her spot that keeps her hidden in the shadows.

Henry chuckles softly. “Emma isn’t a thief,” he corrects her and okay, at this point spilling her real name seems like a stupid concern, but Emma is worried nonetheless. None of what has happened from the beginning of that stupid ball up until now can be considered “being cautious”. And yet, they still exist, so the future must be intact as well, right?

It’s been a while since she watched _Back to the Future_.

She can see how Regina’s eyes widen slightly at the mention of the name, before she quickly schools her features into a mask of indifference. “Oh? So your mother is a princess on the run? Is that what you are trying to tell me?”

“You…could say that, yes,” Henry says and she can hear the smile in his voice. She can only see Regina’s face that becomes thoughtful.

“You said I need to let you go because it would be essential for my future. But I don’t see how. In my eyes you are nothing but simple peasants who forgot their place.” The condescending rich tone returns to her voice.

“Trust me, I know it’s true.”

“You have no proof to show me, young man. Thus, I have nothing to put my trust on.”

“Henry,” he says quietly and Emma curses inwardly. She loves the kid to death, but what the hell is he doing?

“Pardon?”

“My name,” Henry explains and she can see his back when he shifts a little. “Henry is my name.”

And for the first time since she made acquaintance with the Evil Queen she sees the woman _falter_ at that. She comes closer to him, reaching for his face and probably touching his chin. “Who are you?” she whispers in a terrified, breathless voice.

“I told you,” he murmurs back and it’s hard to understand his words.

“A part of my future,” the Evil Queen repeats with wonder in her voice and maybe this isn’t the Evil Queen anymore, because her eyes are warm and soft for a split of a second. Maybe people never really change, never really leave behind who they truly are, no matter what life does to them.

Emma remembers Snow White’s stories about a younger, happier Regina, one that believed in True Love and a brighter future. She was skeptical back then, but not anymore.

Something within her chest hurts, longs to go out into the light and tell this woman that everything will be worth it in the end. She isn’t sure why, though.

She tries to fight it for a few seconds, but she feels actual physical pain the longer she refuses to give in.

Emma sighs deeply and closes her eyes. Maybe this is supposed to happen. Maybe it already happened, maybe it belongs to the giant jigsaw puzzle that will lead to the curse.

She steps out of the shadow and lifts both hands, not sure what makes her do this. But she feels like doing it and since they are kinda trapped in this loop of time jumping that will either keep the future they come from or destroy everything, she’s come to terms with trusting these random urges to do something. Like promising Robin’s very alive wife to sweep her out of her own time line. (Well, not with those exact words.)

The Evil Queen flexes her fingers, as if she’s not sure if to ignite that fireball or not. Emma almost chuckles. “How did you get out of your cell?” she snarls, glaring at her, but her surprise seems exaggerated for some reason.

“I have my ways,” she smiles, curious if the Evil Queen will take the bait. She even steps closer, her chin slightly lifted.

Henry ducks under both their gazes and marches for the door. She wants to ask why, but then she spots the glowing ball of light that floats out of the library and she simply nods when he gives her a last glance. Then he is gone and she’s alone with the queen.

Regina. She blinks and her eyes return to Emma. “Where is he off to?” There is a softness to her voice when she refers to Henry, ever since she found out about his name.

“As fun as this was, we have to go,” Emma tells her, clearing her throat, because something in her chest stirs at the thought of leaving this woman here. She knows how the story will go on from this point on. She knows exactly what will happen when she leaves. However, this is already a written down story, isn’t it? Hasn’t she turned the pages of that goddamn book Henry loved to drag around wherever he went in her first months of staying in Storybrooke?

Regina’s jaw is working and she slips back into her role as queen. “Is he telling the truth? What he said about the future?”

“I just entered the—”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, child. I knew exactly when you entered the room.”

 _Magic_ , her mind offers her and of course she forgot that crucial detail. Well, whatever, she’s still alive, right? That has to mean something.

Emma nods. “I see. And now what? Will you fight me and try to arrest me again? I know you want to kill me, but you aren’t allowed to,” she says, choosing her words with care. She steps closer and closer, until they are inches apart. Regina doesn’t step back. Of course not. “And you know it,” she says slowly, hoping that her words will reach Regina. Not the queen, but the woman behind the mask.

She stares back, her forehead knitting in confusion. “Did he send you? Is this a trick? One of his cruel, pointless games to test whatever that imp now deems to be important?”

It almost breaks her heart, but Emma pretends as if the words don’t affect her at all. Except that they do, because this strong, angry queen is so deeply wounded by those who are closest to her at the moment that it’s no wonder she’ll fall for Rumpelstiltskin’s promises of happiness and victory over Snow White with a Dark Curse.

“No,” she sighs, taking the last step further into Regina’s personal space and forcing her to step back. It’s wrong and she shouldn’t push this too far, but Regina already knows her name, hers and Henry’s.

Regina’s back gently meets the bookshelf behind her. “Then why are you even here? I have nothing to offer you if you are, indeed, from the future,” the queen whispers and it would be so easy to lean in and take something that doesn’t belong to her, because she doesn’t belong here. And yet, her lips are so close and—

 _Focus, Swan_.

“One day we will meet again. And you will hate me until you don’t. You will give me and Henry the most precious gift a person is able to offer. You will give us a happy ending. And we will come back, because he is part of your happy ending and no one is going to take that away from you. He will find you one day again, I promise you that,” she whispers, not sure why this message through time feels so damn _right_. Because that’s what she just did; she gave her a taste of her future.

Somebody snaps their fingers and Regina’s eyes fall closed, before she drifts towards the floor.

“What the—” She catches her gracelessly, turning her head at the intruder.

Rumpel-fucking-stiltskin. “Hello, dearie. That was truly a touching speech. But she isn’t ready yet,” he says and for once he sounds serious. “The curse has to wait, don’t tempt her to overthrow every carefully laid plan in favor of chasing after her dreams of freedom and a happy ending.”

“But—” She is still cradling Regina in her arms, glaring at Rumple as if he threatened Regina’s life.

He steps closer. “Henry called my name and told me what happened. We have to make her forget, Emma,” he says and there is no room for proposing other options.

Emma forms a thin line with her lips. “Why?”

“Do you know what happens to people who have to live with several realities in their head?” She shakes her head, slowly and not really sure why he is asking her this out-of-topic-and-context question. “They go insane.” He points at Regina in her arms. “If this happens to her, all my years will be wasted. Your future will be gone. Do you truly wish for your own death?”

“How can comforting her by telling a few vague things about the future make her lose her—”

Today is the day no one let’s her speak, apparently, because Rumple cuts her off again. “Because you see her the way I do, the way the world elected not to—she is human, not a monster that deserves the moniker that follows her around like a disease. But she will tell you differently, Emma. And I need her like that. That’s why I shaped her like that. Don’t change history.” 

She thinks about Marian and bites her lower lip, hoping that he doesn’t somehow know about this, too. “And now what? You will wipe her memory?”

“I will store your words away, since it’s nearly impossible to remove someone’s memories from them completely,” he says after a beat or two, watching Regina in her arms. It feels wrong to let go of her and lay her down on the cold floor of the library. “They will be hidden in her mind, buried too deep underneath other memories to remember. But she’ll still have them; who knows, maybe this was meant to happen?” His smile is too wide, too predatory to make her feel at ease with him touching Regina’s forehead. She sighs softly under his touch and there is a dark red glowing underneath his fingertips where he touches her skin, before he straightens again.

“I’ll take care of her. She won’t remember your faces or names, I will replace them in her memories.”

“And the guards?”

“Already taken care of.” He smiles, even winks.

Oh god. “Thanks, I guess,” she mumbles, getting to her feet reluctantly. “I couldn’t help myself,” she starts to explain. “It felt as if I…had to do this.”

“It will have its purpose, dearest Emma. Now, run along before the guards outside will wake up from their slumber and find your son. I am sure we will meet again!” He chuckles and even bows slightly. Jesus Christ. As if he escaped a circus.

“Sure,” she breathes, casting one last look at Regina, lying in her black dress on the floor, before Rumple kneels down next to her and they both vanish in a thick cloud of magic.

*

Regina wakes up with a start and it takes her some seconds to realize that she is lying on Emma’s bed at Snow White and Prince Charming’s apartment. Storybrooke. She is in Storybrooke.

But she remembers now.

She remembers _everything_.

Henry’s face in the library and his crooked smile that looks like Emma’s when he talked about the future. How the dust danced in the soft light of dawn. How he persisted about him being from the future. A future she is currently _living_. And she remembers Emma’s face, the determination in her eyes and most importantly her words. Her words that motivated her to do what she did before Pan’s curse hit the town.

Oh god.

Everything is connected, isn’t it? She holds her head and pushes her hair back, still trying to catch her breath. Her hands are still trembling a little when she switches the lamp on the bedside table on after she bumps into several chocolate bars. She sighs. This room is so Emma, it feels almost off to be here.

But Snow insisted for her to stay here, and the baby isn’t up yet, or maybe she slept through the first concert of his strong lungs, so it isn’t the worst place to be.

She smiles a little, before her mind returns to the dreamed memories.

She wonders why they surfaced now. Is it because Emma and Henry reached that point in history right now? It’s a lovely and comforting thought, because that means that they are okay, that they are still alive and didn’t get killed.

She just has to hold on to that.

*

She meets Henry and Zelena talking on the steps of the staircase she is walking down right now. They are both leaning against that banister with no worries in the world, it seems.

“You didn’t mention me by any chance, did you?”

“I am sorry,” Henry mumbles into the collar of the suit he is still wearing.

Zelena just sighs and gives Henry a long look. “You are lucky I like you,” she says between clenched teeth and huffs with a grumpy look on her face. But there is a warm look in her blue eyes and her bad mood seems to be just an act.  

“Guys, what are you doing here?” she hisses.

“Waiting for Santa Claus,” Zelena says with the most serious tone in which this line could be possibly delivered. “What do you think, duckling?”

Emma glares at her and then takes a look around. Rumple wasn’t lying. The guards are all lying on the floor, some of them even snoring. It would entertain her more, if she didn’t remember her promise. “Henry, you and Zelena go and wait for me outside. There is something I need to do.”

“What is it?” Henry looks at her with eager eyes.

Emma tries to stop the fidgeting, but she fails. She takes a deep breath and avoids Zelena’s amused look that will follow her words for sure. She inspects her dirty boots instead. “I met Marian in the dungeon where they held me captive,” she says in a rush of air that leaves her lungs and she peeks at Henry through her lashes.

“You mean…?” Henry starts, lifting both brows.

“Yes.”

He blinks back. “Oh.”

Zelena’s mouth forms a perfect, scandalized O. “Oh my god, I haven’t lived until this day. This is priceless!” And then she bursts into laughter, holding her stomach and laughing tears. If it’s because of the news or because she once again made a joke about living while being dead, no one can tell for sure.

And Emma honestly doesn’t care enough to ask.

Henry gives her a weird look. “Is she going to die?”

A part of Emma hoped for this question and she is so relieved that she wasn’t wrong. “Yes. Her execution is scheduled for tomorrow.” She glances at the grey light coming through the great window. “Or today, actually,” she corrects herself.  

“Why didn’t you tell the queen to not do it? To let her go?” Henry wonders, shaking his head. “We can’t let her die!”

“That’s why I asked you two to leave. I plan to free her, but we have to hurry. I don’t know how long the guards will stay unconscious, so it might get ugly in there.” She doesn’t have a weapon, so how she plans on stopping the guards should they wake up before they made it out of there is above her. She just hopes for the best.

Emma sighs. As if that’s ever really worked out for her.

Zelena calms down a little and wipes her ghost-tears out of the corners of her eyes. “This is the ultimate way to get the girl, Savior. I am impressed.”

“Do me a favor and _shut the fuck up_.”

“Hit a nerve there, did I?”

Henry just sighs. “Alright, I’ll take her outside. But please, be careful and hurry up, okay?” He hesitates and then hugs her, effectively distracting her from Zelena’s offended “young man, I am not a dog and I do not wish to be addressed like one!”

What a sensitive plant.

They part, nod at each other and walk into different directions. Emma is glad she still knows which way she went up to the library, because the castle is _huge_. She hurries past the sleeping guards and slips into the narrow staircase that leads to the dungeons. The air tastes moldy and dank like stagnant water. Ew.

She makes her way past the guards she’d knocked out with a few well-planted punches and snatches the keys for all cells from one of them. She arrives at the cell, where Marian is still sitting on the floor, staring at the opposite wall until she hears her approaching footsteps and the clattering keys in Emma’s hand.

“Emma!” she says with a wide smile. “You came back,” she sighs happily, before her features darken a little. “Even though I told you not to.”

“Don’t worry, I got this,” she says a bit out of breath and pulls the door open. “Come on, let’s leave this place.”

“Yes, please,” she says and it sounds like an almost-sob.

This is the right thing to do, Emma tells herself when she takes Marian’s hand and walks in a beeline for the exit of the dungeon.

This is the right thing to do.

*

“No.”

“Please, trust me. This is the only way!” Emma pleads, not letting go of Marian’s hand. Zelena and Henry simply watch, although Zelena is still a ghost and Marian is completely unaware of her presence.

Marian shakes her head. “No! You promised me I could return to my family, so please, let me go!”

“I can’t.” Emma sounds like a whiny child on a long car trip, but she doesn’t care. “I give you my word, you will see them again. You just have to trust me,” she tries again, forcing herself to use a much calmer tone.

“Yeah, she is telling the truth,” Henry says eagerly, stepping closer to Marian and giving her one of his wide charming smirks. He looks like the little boy that found her in Boston again despite his dark, festive clothes. He glances at her and tilts his head a little back, something that reminds her of Neal.

Marian looks between them, disbelief shining in her dark eyes. “You can’t be serious. I don’t even see that stupid portal of yours you keep insisting on being real.”

Emma looks to the side where the portal glows with golden light and swirls with powerful magic.

“She won’t see it as long as she doesn’t believe you,” Zelena chimes in with that bored tone of hers. She shrugs when Emma meets her gaze. “Make her believe and the journey can continue.”

“I should do it,” Henry whispers to her and she remembers Neverland and Henry getting the title to be the Truest Believer.

She nods, and steps back.

Henry doesn’t step closer, but he lifts his hands. “There is something you need to know about me,” he starts and there follows a heavy pause after his words.

Marian relaxes a little, because Henry’s little smirk is disarming. “I am listening,” she tells him with a firm nod and she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“My mom named me after her father,” he starts and Emma starts to realize where this is going. She isn’t sure if she should intervene or not, so she just looks at Zelena who stopped looking at her fingernails and stares at Henry as if he is the answer to everything.

Marian stares at Emma. “What has this to do with anything?”

“My other mom,” Henry goes on and now Emma flinches, because yeah, this is the Enchanted Forest and stuff so maybe this won’t sound odd, but maybe it will.

And by Marian’s thoughtful look she assumes it’s the latter. “Henry, you really don’t have to—”

“She took me in when Emma couldn’t take care of me,” he continues and now he does step closer. A few more inches and he’d be be on eye level with Marian. “The woman I am talking about is kind and very brave and the most loving person I know. She’d do anything to protect me. They both would,” he smiles at Emma at that, before his attention returns to Marian’s confused face.

“I still don’t—”

“Her name is Regina, but you know her better under the title Evil Queen. She’s more than that though. People are more than their titles. And right now she’s probably sitting in a diner, drinking coffee and chatting with Snow White.”

Marian’s mouth falls open, there is no other way to put this. “Snow...White?”

“See, things can change if you give them time,” Henry says in a way too wistful tone for his age. But he never really was like other kids in his age, was he? The fake memories of a life in New York feel as distant as a dream, but she remembers her first impressions of him clearly, when he found her in Boston.

“And as unbelievable as that sounds, yet here I am. So is my mom, Emma. We are from the future and you have to believe us if we tell you that your husband and your little son are going to be there as well. You can get back to them—just not here. Your return would mess up the timeline, and we can’t let that happen,” he urges on and it seems to work.

There is a painful longing on Marian’s features. “Really?”

“Yes,” he promises. “Close your eyes and think of them. Trust me, we are telling the truth. You will see them again. That’s why we saved you.” Henry either spent too much time with Archie or he just knows how to comfort people.

Emma is proud of him.

Because it worked.

The moment Marian opens her eyes she gasps and stares at the spot where the golden light of the portal continues to swirl around.

“The portal,” she whispers.

“Yeah, let’s jump in and see where it will spit us out, hm?” Emma suggests, offering her arm to Marian.

She swallows. “I hope you know what you are doing, Emma.”

Yeah, she hopes that as well.

*

“I don’t know. The garden seems a little small,” Snow says with a conflicted look on her tired face. Her little offspring decided to give them an early wake up call and now she is sitting in front of Regina with a mug of black coffee and some printed pages of properties. Houses, to be precise.

Regina sighs into her own coffee. With Henry and Emma still gone and Robin (and by extension also Roland) out of the picture for the time being, she doesn’t have many options left with whom she wishes to spend time with. And Snow sitting across her with Neal sitting in his baby seat next to her on the table is surprisingly not the worst thing these days.

“Are you planning on having a sheep farm in that house as well?”

“I want my child to grow up with a garden and this,” Snow almost rips a hole into the paper with her index finger, “is not a garden. It’s a square at the back of the house that happens to have some grass on it.”

Regina smiles thinly. “It also has a tree and, what is that? A _swing set_?”

“You are not helping, Regina.”

“I am sorry, I wasn’t aware I was a consultant for real estate investments.”

Snow chuckles. “This is nice.”

Regina hesitates, but decides to answer her smile with one of her own. “I think it is, yes.”

“Your Majesty?”

“Yes?” Regina and Snow answer in unison and then look at each other.

Blue looks at them, a little lost. “Snow,” she clarifies after a second and avoids Regina’s glare.

That’s fine. She doesn’t like that moth that much anyway.

“What can I do for you?” Snow asks with a warm smile and maybe the position as mayor isn’t as ill-suited for her as Regina always claims to think.

Blue’s smile seems a little off or maybe it’s just Regina’s complicated history with this fairy. She knows her part of the story, knows what Tink told her about this woman and how she refused to help her in her childhood because of her _mother_. “People are worried, Snow. The portal is still there and no one knows when Emma and Henry are going to be back. Shouldn’t it be better to investigate it further?”

Regina turns in her seat and gives Blue a pointed look. “And how, pray tell, do you want this investigation to look like? As far as I know, there is no way to trace their whereabouts with this portal.”

Blue purses her lips. “That is not what I mean. But how do we know they will return?”

“The portal will close itself when everything is said and done, dearie,” says another voice from behind. Gold is holding a coffee-to-go in his hands and leans on his cane. His face looks tired and…sad. Why does she even care?

Blue makes an annoyed face. “I assume since your doings opened it, we should trust your word most, isn’t that right, Dark One?”

“Careful,” Gold smiles and it’s one of the menacing smiles she associates with her past. Regina shivers. “One would think you are trying to hide something.”

“Guys,” Snow tries, but the staring contest is open and Blue and Gold don’t even look at her.

“You told him about the Land Without Magic,” Gold accuses.

“You wield magic that never belonged to you in the first place,” Blue hisses back.

By now the entire diner is staring at them and Regina can see how Granny is taking her crossbow from beneath the counter in her hands, Ruby glancing at them with worry in her eyes. Baby Neal whines in his seat and Snow does her best to comfort him. “It’s okay, shh, I am here,” she whispers into his ear and for a moment she thinks about tiny Henry.

“Stop this,” she barks, surprising herself when she stands up and glares at them. “This is hardly the place or the time for this. Do us all a favor and just leave.”

Gold huffs and is the first one to limp out of the diner, almost bumping into Archie who enters with Pongo on his leash. He looks a little confused when he notices Regina and Blue’s position.

“And you,” Regina starts with a low voice, “better keep yourself out of matters that are not of your concern. Did I make myself clear?”

“You trust him way too easily, _your Majesty_ ,” Blue says with a bitter tone and ignores Snow’s sigh. “His lies will hurt you. All of you,” she points out and gives Snow a long look before leaving with swift movements. The diner goes back to its usual chatter and Granny puts her crossbow away to continue her business. Ruby gives her and Snow a little smile and walks over to Archie’s table to take his order.

“What was this about?” Snow wonders, the printed sheets with houses long forgotten.

Regina looks out of the window and notices Gold standing there and staring at the clock tower. Something is up.

“I hope nothing that will concern us,” she gives back and reaches across the table to touch Baby Neal’s little fist. “You really need to rethink your choice of name, Snow.”

“Don’t start with this again.” And then she commences to rant about how they came to the conclusion of giving their son this name and she is only half listening.

Her mind is racing.

_His lies will hurt you. All of you._

*

It is horribly cold when they land on their feet and there is snow and ice everywhere. The forest is covered in white and there is almost no sound. Small snowflakes are falling down and there is no wind.

“Where are we?” Marian sounds like she’s about to get sick.

Henry’s hand is on her arm. “Hey, are you okay?”

Zelena just shakes her head. “Poor thing, never had much contact with magic, it seems.”

“Shut up,” Emma hisses, because she can’t focus.

“Pardon?” Marian looks at her.

“Eh, nothing,” she smiles back, scolding herself for constantly forgetting that Zelena is in fact invisible to everyone except her and Henry, and still very much dead. Or as dead as a ghost can be. “What are we doing here?” There is no castle in sight, not even a village or anything. They are standing on a narrow road in the middle of a forest, snow and the fresh winter air around them.

“Look behind you,” Zelena suggests and walks past Emma towards something dark that lies on the floor.

“Stay here,” she orders both and Marian looks relieved. Henry asks her if she wants to sit down but Emma doesn’t hear her reply because she’s on her way towards the dark … clothes? And next to the pile of clothing lies on his stomach a naked, unconscious man.

“A horse was here, too,” Zelena observes, pointing at the traces around the tree where the clothes rest next to it and at that dude that is still completely naked.

“Is he…dead?” she asks and looks at Zelena.

The ghost stares back, anger sitting in the corners of her mouth. “Oh, you think just because I am a ghost I can tell if someone’s dead or not? Well, no, Emma, this is not how that works. _At all._ ”

“Okay, no need to yell,” she says and checks if Marian hears her talking. But she and Henry are sitting on a fallen tree not far away from the road and talking about something. Regina, she supposes. She turns back towards their discovery and notices the ball of light hovering over the pile of clothes.

“Looks like it wants you to do something with it.”

“What, cover that man?”

“Then it would hover over that idiot as well,” Zelena muses and crouches down. She can’t touch the things, but she is observant enough to make the conclusion before Emma does. “He’s a guard of Regina’s kingdom. That’s her crest.”

Emma goes down next to her and touches the crest in front of what seems to be part of a soldier’s uniform. “You are right,” she says and remembers the guards that arrested her in King Midas’ castle. “But why is it leading me here?”

“Perhaps you need to put them on,” Zelena offers with a lifted eyebrow. “It seems to be important. And this light guide won’t open our next portal, until you did what it wants.”

Emma makes a grimace. “I hate changing clothes outside in the snow,” she grumbles and if Zelena notices the implied “I did that way too often in my life already” she doesn’t comment on it. She simply shrugs and turns away.

A few minutes (and a handful of curses) later, Emma comes back dressed completely in black and armed with a sword and a helmet with some weird black fuzzy stuff on it and a black mask made of soft material that will cover the entire face. What the hell, Regina?

“You look…”

She doesn’t need a mirror to know how to finish that sentence. “Like a clown,” Emma says and rolls her eyes at Zelena. “Save it.”

“I wanted to say threatening, but with that look on your face you do resemble a clown.” She smiles back and there is almost something like affection in her voice.

“I have a mask on, you can’t see my face.”

“I can almost taste your frown.” Zelena sighs and waves with her hand. Everything she does, each move somehow has a condescending touch to it. As does the look she’s giving Emma right now.”

Emma groans. “Well then,” she clears her throat. “Where did the tour guide go?”

“There,” Zelena points to a safe distance behind some trees and she’s right. The by now familiar golden glowing of an open portal is there.

She catches Henry’s attention and waves them both over. It’s time to leave for their next destination. Hopefully, the mystery around these clothes will be revealed to her then.  

Henry and Marian approach her (and Zelena) with a puzzled expression on their faces. “Why are you wearing that?” Henry wonders.

“The golden ball of light told me to.” Emma shrugs and enjoys that she somehow managed to will her magic into shrinking the uniform to her size. “Let’s go,” Emma says and starts to march through the snow towards the portal. The others follow her.

“What is with that man lying...naked on the ground? Did you...rob him?” Marian doesn’t sound as scandalized as Emma would’ve assumed, but then she remembers who she is facing right now. The wife of a legendary thief. Well, if the Kevin Costner version of Robin Hood is to be trusted, anyway.

“He...is taking a nap. He was like this when I came here,” she says and wonders since when that man is lying there. She has no idea who did this.

But Henry does. “Snow White did this,” he nods, while looking into the distance. “She was looking for help to forget Prince Charming.”

Marian looks at him with a blank face. “Prince Charming?”

“Jesus,” Zelena sighs and pretends to stifle a yawn, before she stretches and poses as someone who is ready for some long overdue sleep. “How much longer is this going to take? Should I take a nap next to the undressed gentleman over there?”

“Ew,” Emma chokes out, because she doesn’t want the mental image that jumps at her mind. “Stop talking,” she hisses and continues to march forward.

“Are you sure she is okay?” whispers Marian behind her. “She is talking to herself again, isn’t she?”

“Uh…”

Oh, Henry.

She has no time to join their silly conversation about her mental state. They have to hurry, because she could swear a horse is approaching. Good, that means the naked man is not going to die.

*

Regina doesn’t especially enjoy the cold, but Tink requested to meet her in the park. Some weird problem with “Hook hovering around the B&B” forces them to be here. Ever since Emma fell into that portal with Henry, the pirate seems to be on a journey to try (and fail once again) to court another blonde woman.

Good.

Regina sighs and tries to find something positive about the slow walk in the cold air. “You say something is up at the convent, then?” She actually called the ex-fairy to get some more information on Blue. The fairy is clearly up to something—she just doesn’t know what.

“Yes. I mean, I am not sure. Nova and I are still trying to get back to how things were before I ‘committed treason to the order’ or something,” Tink says with an eyeroll and sighs. “She did tell me though that Blue is very suspicious of the portal.”

“But why?”

“That I don’t know and she didn’t know either.”

Regina only hums in response. And then falters a little. “You don’t think she knows something about the time travel we don’t, do you?” She gives Tink a slightly panicked look.

Tink furrows her brows in concern. “Why would she keep it to herself, though?”

“To have power,” she guesses.

“Think out of the box you lived in as the queen,” Tink tells her and makes a thoughtful face. “Why would a fairy choose to lie?”

Regina knows that this will get them nowhere and she’s already feeling how this conversation is only making her paranoid. Henry and Emma are fine. They are going to come back in one piece and then they can continue to…be whatever they were before they both disappeared.

She briefly thinks about her dead half-sister and decides to cross that bridge another time and not here, in the park with Tink and her heart already racing because of the horrifying _what if_.

“They’ll be fine,” Tink tries to calm her down and hooks her arm under Regina’s. “Otherwise this reality would’ve changed by now. Don’t worry too much, okay?”

She nods and even smiles, but the unsettling feeling that something bad is about to happen stays.

*

That dungeon seems familiar. She’s already been here, in a different time. Together with Snow, when they fell through Jefferson’s hat. She shared a cell with Snow, Mulan and Aurora down here, just a different cell. She is currently standing at the entrance to the dungeon and it’s completely abandoned, save for some flickering torches attached to the wall.

Emma feels tears in her eyes but blinks them away, because she is sure that Zelena is going to laugh at her should she notice them. They are almost home, right? This must be the last chapter—the Dark Curse is about to be here, right?  “We’re in Snow’s castle, aren’t we?” she asks Henry, even though she knows very well where they are. She asks for Marian’s sake, probably.

No answer comes.

She turns around, the next, more worried question already on her lips, but there is no one. Just a narrow staircase that leads upstairs to the castle.

And a ghost that looks very lost. “They...aren’t here?” Zelena breathes and it sounds like a question, but it’s not. It’s a fact.

“Where the fuck are they?” Emma starts to pace around, looking in every direction. But it’s unlikely that the portal would spit them out in two different places. What sense would that make? And besides, Henry was always next to her. He jumped with her and Marian (and Zelena) into the portal, so he clearly went through it. She felt his body right next to hers. She is sure of it.

“I don’t know,” Zelena whispers and frowns. “But maybe they can’t be here,” she tells her with not a lot of confidence. “You said this is Snow White’s castle. Meaning she isn’t on the run anymore, so we jumped quite some time.”

Someone is screaming in the distance, somewhere above them. They both freeze and stare at the ceiling of the half-lit dungeon.

“What is your point?” She clenches her fist and the leather of her gloves squeaks. “Is there even a goddamn point?” The fucking mask feels weird on her face and it’s even weirder to talk through the thin material that is just thick enough to keep her face hidden. She could take the helmet off, but she wants to keep her hands free.

Zelena steps closer. “This is our last stop, I think. Maybe they had to skip, because...well, if I am correct then the curse is already in the making and about to be here in a few. We should find out why we are here.”

“Or we could ask Rumpelstiltskin,” Emma says and is fully aware of saying his name out loud.

Nothing happens.

“What the hell,” she mutters and feels cold sweat running down her neck. Nothing is working. Nothing makes sense.

Even Zelena looks alarmed. “That’s odd.”

“It’s not,” giggles a familiar voice from quite some distance.

Emma follows the voice and rounds the corner to walk towards the very same cell that she’d already been trapped in.

And currently Rumpelstiltskin is residing in it. Which means that this is really the last chapter. Her heart slows down and she takes a deep breath. The panic subsides slowly and thinking clear thoughts gets easier with each step.

Rumpelstiltskin is close to the bars with his face, the golden-green hue to his skin glows in the light of the torches on both sides in front of his cell. “So we meet again, little Emma. Quite some time passed,” he grins and his rotten teeth make Zelena gag behind her.

Emma ignores her. “Why are Henry and…” She bites her tongue. Oh. He doesn’t know about her little rescue mission back at Regina’s castle. But he must’ve taken notice of that. The execution that was scheduled for Marian never took place. He had to know.

And judging by his shit-eating, terrifying grin he does. “I know,” he chuckles and she’d be a lot more relaxed around him if it wasn’t bitterness but amusement shining in his eyes. “You saved a woman destined to die. How noble of you,” he goes on, and the smile suddenly vanishes from his lips and is replaced by a serious frown. “And how very stupid.”

“What the—”

“You think you can cheat death like that? You think you can rip someone out of their timeline and change their fate?”

Her heart stops and she can feel the first cracks. “What is going to happen? Is she going to die?” Oh god. Is Henry going to die too? Maybe he was holding her hand when they jumped into the portal.

“He wasn’t,” Zelena’s soft voice assures her and yep, she voiced that last thought out loud. “And why would they both die?”

Rumple’s expression remains hard. “Yes, why would they, now that you saved that woman oh so bravely from her cell? That makes little sense, now does it?”

Emma is starting to lose her patience. Maybe it’s looking through the fabric of that stupid mask or maybe she simply wants to finally return home, but she has literally no time for this cryptic bullshit. “How about you start to clear things up instead of spilling this confusing crap?”

Zelena sighs dramatically behind her.

Rumple leans even closer. “Your boy safely returned to his timeline, Emma. Don’t worry. As did Marian, who will rejoin her family there, I suppose,” he starts to explain. “However…” Rumple lowers his voice suddenly and takes a deep breath.

“Yes?” Emma looks behind her to check if some guard joined them, but no one is there. The dungeon is completely empty, as far as she can tell. There aren’t even other prisoners.

“This is your last journey, Emma.” Rumpelstiltskin utters these words with the most serious tone she’s ever heard from him. He reminds her more of Mr Gold now, and she wonders if the cursed identities were just highlighting the hidden parts of a person. Or maybe beneath all this golden-green glitter and the weird gestures is still the human part of Rumpelstiltskin?

She crosses her arms and the swords at her hip clatters against her leg when she shifts the weight to her left leg. “I think we just settled that. This is my last gig and then I return back to my timeline.”

“No.”

“No?” She stares at him, then at Zelena who just looks as surprised as Emma. “What do you mean?”

He sighs and she actually is even more creeped out by this serious Rumpelstiltskin than by the mad Rumpelstiltskin who giggles a lot and makes zero sense. At least there is humor to his manners, unlike in the case at hand. “Emma,” he makes with another deep sigh. “You aren’t going back. You can’t break an unbreakable rule and expect not to pay the price for it.”

Zelena makes a confused noise, before her breath hitches. Which would be funny, if Emma’s heart wasn’t trying to break out of her ribcage.

“What do you mean?” she almost yells, not caring if someone hears them or not. She steps closer and her nose almost touches the bars of Rumple’s cell. “What fucking rule?”

“There is no coming back from the dead,” he tells her with a lifted index finger and raised eyebrows. “Ghosts don’t count as ‘returned from the dead’, little Emma,” he smiles thinly when she’s about to point at Zelena.

“Thanks,” Zelena just mutters, looking at the uneven ground of the dungeon.

Emma swallows. “But she was alive,” she contradicts with a calm voice. She forces herself to refrain from feeling any kind of panic. She will get home. Rumple is wrong, because he doesn’t know the whole story. “She was alive and in no near-death-situation whatsoever.” Is it hot down here? She takes the helmet and stupid mask off, letting it fall to the ground. Breathing still feels uneasy.

Rumple almost giggles. It sounds sad. “I wish that was true. But what you did is so much more, Emma. You didn’t just save her life and let her go—you couldn’t do that, for it could’ve changed the future and you and your boy might’ve vanished long before your task was fulfilled.”

“But they didn’t,” Zelena interferes in a low tone. At least her hatred for that imp seems to be at bay for the moment. “What she did had to happen, apparently.”

“Which is why she’s here, yes,” Rumple nods.

Emma shakes her head and starts to pace around again. She is distressed and confused and no one seems to try and help her out of this state. “Would someone just please tell me what is going on?” She almost stomps with her feet. “So, I didn’t bring her back from the dead, but what I did somehow is wrong anyway, but not really, because nothing changed and that means that it had to happen. Did I forget something?”

Rumple leans his forehead against the bars. “You cheated death. You took what was rightfully his; you didn’t allow things to take their natural course. You intervened with fate and that, my dear savior, costs a high price.”

There is a horrible suspicion forming in her mind, but she pushes it away. Far away and for as long as possible. “You aren’t saying what I think you are saying, are you…?” she whispers and stops walking around. Zelena is right next to her, watching her sideways.

Rumple blinks and for a moment there is genuine guilt in his eyes, but it vanishes with the next blink. “All magic comes with a price. Smuggling someone to the future who was meant to die? It’ll cost you quite literally everything you got.”

She just stares at him dumbfounded.

This can’t be happening.

“Emma?”

She ignores Zelena. She wants to wake up. Where is the exit of this dream? Nothing is real. This is like _Inception_ , right? They jumped from portal to portal, but it was from dream to dream. It has to be. Because if this is real, then…

“My apologies, savior,” Rumple repeats. “If I had to pick someone to die on this time travel, it wouldn’t have been you.” Somehow this manages to be the nicest and yet most fucked up thing Rumple said to her on this time travel. A time travel, which she never agreed to do. Just for the record, she more or less fell by accident into it, because Henry got sucked into it after—

After Rumple teleported them back to the barn. He knew. That fucker knew that she would— That this is— Oh god. No. _NO_.

“Fuck you,” she spats at him and is in a flash in his face. “You should’ve done something! You should’ve warned me that this would happen!”

“And when would I have had the chance to do just that, Emma? You didn’t share your plans on saving that woman with me, back in Regina’s castle. You simply did what your righteous heart felt like doing. And it was an honorable thing to do! But even the best intentions don’t save you from the consequences of your actions: death will come with this curse upon you and collect what you quite literally stole from him.”

Zelena is right behind her. “Maybe we should go,” she suggests in a surprisingly soft tone.

Well, she can fuck off with that. “You are going to tell me how to fix this, Rumple. Now!”

“There is no way to—”

“I am the savior, I am not supposed to die on this fucking time travel! I did a good thing! _I saved someone’s life,_ ” she hisses in his face, gripping the bars tightly. “I am not supposed to die for something that was good!”

“The world cares surprisingly little for good and evil, Emma. There are actions and consequences,” Rumple gives back, indifference resounding in his words. “It doesn’t care about intent. No one does, really. Or do you think the people stopped for one second to ask themselves, ‘Wait a minute, why is this young beautiful woman suddenly spiraling towards darkness? What happened to the innocent looking girl that married this old king?’ No one cares. Not even your mother, who—believe it or not—spread that false information about Regina being jealous of her beauty. What a petty explanation!”

Emma grimaces with fury drumming in her chest and rushing through her veins. Her knuckles hurt from gripping the bars with too much force, but she doesn’t care. She ignores the angry, frustrated tears and tries to convince herself that this is just a low before she finds a way out of here.

But the truth that this is indeed her last stop starts to seep into her mind like a disease. And suddenly she can’t think about anything else. She sinks to her knees, not letting go of the bars and starts to cry.

This is not fair.

She didn’t ask for any of this.

“Let’s go,” Zelena whispers into her ear and it sounds a little broken at the end, as if Zelena is barely holding it together herself.

Another sob escapes Emma’s mouth instead of an actual reply. She doesn’t move. She can’t move. Her body is numb with the horrifying realization that she will never see Henry again. She won’t get to say goodbye to him or her parents; she is cut off from her life because of that dingy little imp who manipulated a woman into casting a curse that would change the life of everyone forever.

That would force her to grow up on her own.

“You should go, it can’t be long now,” Rumple whispers, retreating into the shadows of his cell. Something rustles between his fingers. Emma lifts her head.

It’s a small piece of parchment. She wipes her eyes and nose with the sleeve of that uniform that still smells like snow and forest and glares at Rumple, who is now lifting a quill and inkwell from the ground behind the boulder he’s sitting on. “What are you doing?”

“I feel like writing,” he tells her, but he doesn’t start to write. He just looks at her, as if her reaction to this parchment and quill actually means something to him.

And then she realizes that it does. She did it. She was here already and she has done all these things. Decades later she and her mother will be in that cell and they will find the piece of parchment in a small hole in the wall. “My name,” she whispers with a hoarse voice. “And you will hide it in the wall right there,” she instructs him, starting to turn away, lifting the helmet as she does.

Rumple hums. “Thought as much, but I wanted to be sure,” he mutters, whistling quietly to himself.

Zelena follows her and walks right through her when she suddenly stops right before she rounds the corner. “What is my task here?” She doesn’t turn around completely, just turns her head a little to glance over her shoulder at him.

Rumple stops whistling, but doesn’t cease to write her name over and over again. “She sent all her guards home to be with their families when the curse hits them. What a foolish girl, she’s the worst queen I ever witnessed. But at least her intentions were noble, right?”

Emma feels mocked. “You son of a—”

“The only people remaining in the castle who could protect the woman who is currently giving birth to you are seven dwarves, her husband and the huntsman. Doesn’t look good for them, does it?”

She remembers the screaming and it suddenly makes sense. That was her mother. Oh god. No. She wants to laugh about it.

“You want me to stop Regina’s guards from reaching them,” she guesses and of course she would be the one to kill Regina’s only allies. Of course she is responsible for her unhappiness, once again. And now she’s even sent the wife of her current boyfriend back!

 _A+, Swan_.

She grits her teeth and almost runs up the stairs, not caring if Zelena can keep up with her or not. She’s a fucking ghost that can go through walls.

She has nothing to worry about. And soon Emma won’t have to, either.

*

The helmet with the fuzzy black things on top of it is back in place and she tries to humor herself with the fact that at least she won’t die alone. Zelena is sitting right next to her on the floor.

Snow White’s labored screams echo through the entire empty castle. Or almost empty. She briefly wonders where the dwarves are, but her thoughts keep circling around the fact that this is her last chapter. This is how she’s going to die.

With the curse, obviously.

“It’s odd to think about it,” Zelena says, breaking the tense silence between them.

Emma just looks at her.

“Well, you are about to be born, but also about to die. Your life comes full circle,” she elaborates with an almost-smile, before she stops trying to make it sound like some cool coincidence. Ordering a six-piece-Chicken-McNugget box and getting seven pieces is a cool coincidence. But not this. Never this.

“I can’t believe I am saying this,” she mutters, before looking at her again. “You shouldn’t die like this. With me. Here, out of all places.”

“Zelena, it’s not—”

“But this is the funny thing about fate, isn’t it? We have no real say in it,” she continues, her voice distant and oddly sad. “At some point we are all someone’s puppet.”

It makes Emma’s heart ache to hear the ghost talk like that. Of course she knew before this last trip in time that Zelena was mostly misunderstood: by the world, her own mother and maybe even herself. She deserved a second chance as much as Regina did—but she’d never get one.

Or maybe this has been her second chance.

Her steps resound in the empty corridor, before another scream pierces through the too quiet castle. “I honestly just wanted to have a comfortable life after I found my family and fought so hard to keep them. I don’t think that is that greedy a wish.”

“I know,” Zelena agrees and this is maybe the closest they will ever get to friendship. Or whatever this should be called. It’s something, at least.

Emma reaches a grand staircase as someone steps closer behind her and Zelena gasps a “watch out!”, before she feels something sharp digging into her back through her uniform.

“How did you get in here?” a very familiar, male voice asks.

Emma shivers and lifts both arms, trying not to lose it again. For fuck’s sake, she doesn’t want to spend her last minutes having one breakdown after the other, even if they are justified.

Graham’s face is just inches away from hers and suddenly the pieces just _click!_ in her head and everything seems so obvious. She blinks and slowly puts her hands on her helmet.

Graham is still pointing at the center of her chest with an arrow, watching her slow movements with hard eyes. “You are clothed like one of the Evil Queen’s guards, but they aren’t here yet. How did you find yourself in this castle?”

“I am not one of her guards,” Emma replies and ignores Zelena and her fidgeting. (How can ghosts even do that?)

Graham—or is it simply the Huntsman in this realm?—falters a little when he hears her clearly female voice.

That’s her chance. She takes off her helmet.

“What are you doing? Do you want to change the future in the few last minutes that are left?” Zelena hisses with a panicked voice into her ear, but she’s wrong.

Because this has already happened. This is why Graham Humbert, the Sheriff of Storybrooke, started to remember when he spent more time with Emma and why his flashbacks got stronger with each day Emma stayed in town. He saw her. And then he died in her arms, because he almost remembered everything.

Would he have remembered this as well?

He lowers arrow and bow upon seeing her face and his features soften a little. “A woman,” he blinks and tilts his head a little and it’s so _Graham_ that she feels tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, but she wills them away. “Why are you dressed like this? Why are you here?”

She eyes the arrow warily, before looking into his eyes. “Snow White sent all the guards home, so I thought you could need a helping hand,” she shrugs and taps against the hilt of her sword.

Graham puts the arrow and bow away, scratches his scruff and nods slowly. His uniform actually looks pretty similar to hers, save for the heavy, black breast protector and the lack of helmet.  “I reckon I am in no position to deny myself your offer, Miss…?”

“My name is Emma,” she whispers and the wheels of fortune are already working, his fate is now set. She lowers her gaze. “So,” she clears her throat and takes a shaky breath. “What’s the plan?”

“Stop as many soldiers as possible. She will without a doubt bring the best men from her cavalry. That is to our advantage, though. They are used to fight on open field, sitting on a saddle.” He smiles and she wants to cry. His accent hurts in a bittersweet way and she feels the straps of his boot burning on her wrist.

She forces herself to smile, even though she is pretty sure that her eyes are at least glistening with unshed tears and reddened around the corners. “Sounds like a plan, yeah,” she nods.

He watches her for a moment. “With you here, I suggest we try to be smart about this. I will stand up there,” he says and points at a position behind the banister upstairs, “and use my bow, if that is alright with you.”

“Sure,” she agrees, because this is not her party, even though it kind of is her birthday right now. God, this is so fucked up. She’s truly hit a new low with this one.

“Who the hell is that guy?” Zelena wonders and looks after Graham as if she just found a lost puppy. “Is he your boyfriend in the future?”

“He was my…friend and then he died,” she whispers back. The weather outside is acting up, it sounds like some big storm is coming.

“The curse is almost here,” Graham announces from his spot and he draws an arrow to place it at his bow patiently, his face calm and focused. He stares at a double-winged door entrance that is barricaded with various wooden, heavy tables, planks and even a heavy chest. It looks like something you couldn’t break through.

“But they will, faster than we would bet,” Graham tells her and okay, maybe she said that out loud.

Zelena watches him and then Emma again. “You are being weird, Emma,” she notes and tilts her head. “Also, I am an invisible guest at an upcoming battle. What does one do who isn’t in danger and can’t participate?”

“Go upstairs, to my parents and tell me when I am born. I bet I have to stop as many soldiers down here to buy my dad time so he can put me…in the wardrobe,” she murmurs, checking if Graham is noticing something odd with a short glance, but since she’s turned her back on him, he can’t see her talking, so she should be good.

Zelena makes a sad face and somehow this is so much harder to deal with than the Zelena that makes puns about death or the Zelena that is mean or the Zelena who is bored and doesn’t make a secret out of it. This Zelena? It hurts to look at her, because Emma can see the pity.

“Try not to die sooner than you have to,” Zelena tells her with a small, genuine quirk of her lips.

She closes her eyes and allows a faint smile on her lips as well. Then she puts her helmet back on, draws her sword and rolls her shoulders. Her last time of using a sword was quite some time back, but it’ll be alright. She just has to buy David some time.

It doesn’t take long. She can hear the noise of galloping horses through the raging storm that makes the castle shiver, as if there was an earthquake. Then it stops, orders are yelled and Emma takes a deep breath.

“Be ready,” Graham warns her, aiming at the door. There is a loud bang against the heavy doors, shortly followed by another one. Someone shouts something and some seconds pass, before a huge ball of fire simply blasts the entire entrance away.

Of course.

Regina has entered the battle scene and where she is, her magic isn’t far.

The first soldiers run with raised swords into the entrance hall and Emma gets into her stance and watches how Graham’s first arrow finds its destination in the throat of a man who falls on his stomach, gurgling blood.

The first soldier who notices her is confused, falters and dies by another of Graham’s arrows. The others react more quickly upon realizing that she has no interest in running in the same direction as them. “Get him!” one even yells and well, it’s okay to be mistaken for a man right now. The black mask of the helmet hides her face.

She swirls around, ducks and cuts through the sinew in the right knee of a soldier, who cries out in agony and collapses to the floor, holding his leg. Another one joins him there with a slit open shoulder.

She feels so fucking alive, but also disconnected from herself. She can’t stop thinking about Rumpelstiltskin’s words. _Death will come with this curse upon you and collect what you quite literally stole from him._ Ticktockticktockticktock…

Her focus snaps back to the battle.

She tries to hurt them, not kill them, even though that is not always possible. She pushes her sword into the chest of someone and the bones make a loud crack, before the body becomes lifeless. She withdraws the blade and notices how Graham joined her side and moves with purposeful movements. His quiver is empty, there are no arrows left and the hall is littered with lifeless bodies, the ground is swimming in blood and a second doesn’t pass without some soldier screaming in pain.

Oh god.

She ducks, dances back and risks jumping on the stone banister to use the higher ground to her advantage. She kicks the soldier in the face and his nose breaks which is accompanied by a horrified whimper.

She notices out of the corner of her eyes how a new person enters the battlefield, makes a disgusted face and vanishes in a purple cloud of magic with a simple hand motion. Fuck. That was Regina and she is about to go to her parents.

“You were just born, Emma, but there are soldiers on their way to kill him!” Zelena yells and Emma almost falls down from her high position.

She grits her teeth, punches the next soldier with the clenched fist around the hilt of her sword and ignores the way the jaw moves with her punch, drawing some ugly noises from the man.

She runs up the stairs and pauses for a second to see how Graham tiptoes with ease around the guy who is attacking him, but there are some others who manage to run up a staircase on the other side of the hall or disappear in some hallway and holy fucking shit, why is this castle so big?

She puts the sword back in its scabbard and runs up as well, ignoring the blood on her gloves that makes them all sticky. Zelena is right beside her.

“Snow White was crying,” she tells her. “I don’t think they wanted to give you away, not like my mother.”

“And yet the outcome is very similar—we were…both alone,” Emma gasps, rounds the corner and keeps running. Worst. Birthday. Ever. “I mean, we both…had a shit…childhood…” she corrects herself, because she had a family now. Zelena not so much. Well, she almost had one if this whole fuckery of a time travel didn’t step in-between.

The battle sounds are far away now and she dashes off to the other end of the corridor, where the light is coming from. She slows down the moment she hears a rich voice sneering something about happy endings. And there is someone weeping.

Then, soldiers, mumbling something about a vanished child.

She presses her back against the wall and tries to even out her breathing, peeking around the corner to get a look.

“So close,” Zelena huffs. “And yet she lost, because she let the savior go.” She is standing in the entrance of the room—Emma’s nursery, for sure—and crossing her arms.

“I am right next to you,” Emma breathes and steps closer to Zelena, noting how the windows in the hallway start to crack. It’s completely dark outside and with most torches blown out, it’s dark in here as well. Jesus Christ.

And then she looks to her parents; David, who is lying unconscious on the floor with a bleeding wound and Snow, who is sobbing over his body and stares at Regina. The Evil Queen. She is dressed in black with some weird red-black feather cape and a bold hairstyle as far as she can tell. There is some weird magic swirl going around, soaking the space around them with energy. It lies heavily in the air and Emma feels like she can’t breathe.

Panic. This is panic.

She’s seconds away from her death.

The remaining torches are blown out as well when the windows crack and Emma can hear Snow’s “Where are we going?” through the raging storm cloud which is in reality the curse.

Her death. It’s coming closer like a train and she can’t move, she can just gape at the gigantic cloud of dark magic outside the castle that is now sweeping into the room as well.

“Good lord,” Zelena whispers, right at the moment when Regina throws her head back and laughs, “Somewhere horrible!” before the shreds of glass dance around her frame.

Emma realizes with horror that there is something worse than dying.

It’s dying with regrets.

**Author's Note:**

> SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKER!
> 
> pls don't kill me. there will be part 3, i promise. like around christmas 2017 or sth. stay tuned!


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